Chapter Twenty-One #2
Coach Chopard came into the center of the room, and we quieted down. “I think Rip said it best. There’s no time for egos. We have the experience and the talent. Make it work in our favor.” He outlined several plays he wanted us to make and pointed out weaknesses in our strategy.
Reenergized, we grabbed our freshly taped and waxed sticks, ready to get out there.
“One more thing,” Coach said. “Lindstrom. You’re starting this period. Rip, take the bench.”
Protest sprang to my lips. “But, Coach—”
“No egos here, Rip. Remember?” He strode out, leaving me stunned. Seb nudged me.
“It doesn’t mean anything. He’s saving you for the end game, when it’s the most important.”
I refused to show how bad the slight affected me and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We took to the ice as if we were a brand-new team and scored two goals in twelve minutes. I got some playing time, but not as much as I wanted, and didn’t get to face off until later on. But we were ahead, and that was what mattered. I had to eat my own words of taking one for the team.
Third period, we were holding our lead of 3-2. Coach signaled to me.
“Rip, go in. Cycle the fucking puck. Make sure you get the team net-front present if they’re in our zone. I don’t want anything getting near Denis.”
“You got it, Coach.” Relieved, I took to the ice for the face-off. The rest had done me good, and I grabbed the puck, reinvigorated. A Nordics defenseman slammed me into the boards, and I felt a pain in my side where he jammed his stick.
“You like to suck cock? You’re gonna be sucking mine when you lose.”
I threw an elbow backward, connecting with his midsection, happy to hear a grunt of pain.
He punched me low, an illegal kidney shot that sent me sprawling to the ice.
Whistles blew, but it was too late. The benches emptied, and it was a brawl.
Several minutes passed before the ice was cleared, and the fans were screaming and booing. The team doctor came to check me out.
“Rip, you okay?”
I nodded, still a little winded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Bastard.”
“He’s been suspended, and he won’t be on the ice for the rest of the game. You okay to play?”
“Fuck, yeah. Let’s bury these assholes.”
When I rose and skated to the sidelines, the fans roared and cheered. I lifted my stick in appreciation and caught sight of Adrian’s scared face. I gave a thumbs-up and took a seat. Without Coach even saying a word, I knew I was off the ice for now.
“Cap, you okay?” Chitty, who’d been one of the first to dive into the mess, had a cut over his lip.
I spit out my bloody mouthpiece. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t let them goad you. Concentrate on keeping the puck away from our side of the ice. Now, get out there.”
He gave me a quick nod and skated off, while I reassured the rest of the team I was okay. Coach, always with his eye on the game, nevertheless addressed me.
“That was a low blow. What caused it? Did you have words?”
I met his eyes. “Yeah. He told me since I liked to suck dick, I’d be sucking his after the game.” My smile was thin. “Just another day in the life of a gay pro athlete.”
To my surprise, he put a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry. He has no right to say that.
No one does.” Then he walked away to consult with the other coaching staff.
His actions left me somewhat confused, as I’d always gotten the impression that Coach wasn’t fond of having a gay player.
His words dispelled that feeling and raised my spirits.
More energized, I watched Lindstrom take the face-off, and we were off. He passed to Seb, who cycled to Chitty. I was happy to see he’d taken our talk to heart, as he sent the puck to Lindstrom. A Nordics defenseman forechecked Lindy, sending him into the wall, where they battled for control.
“Peter,” I screamed, my throat raw from the effort. “To your left.”
Though I knew he couldn’t hear me, Peter had that puck instinct, which made him one of the best in the league.
He got to the puck and shot down the ice directly at the Nordics’ goal, only to have the puck stolen in what I hated to admit was a beautiful move by their defenseman.
In a breakaway, he sped toward Denis, who waited close to the net, and my heart pounded hard and fast. This was where Denis excelled.
The defenseman took a shot, but Denis stuck his glove and sprawled across the net, and it went nowhere.
The arena went wild. Lindstrom skated to the bench.
“Rip. Go.”
I zoomed out of there like a bat out of hell. There were three minutes remaining, and my adrenaline was through the roof. I blocked out everything except that puck drop. We were going to get to the finals. I refused to think of anything else.
Larsson won the face-off, but I went after him like a tiger to an antelope.
The Nordics had pulled their goalie to get an extra offensive player on the ice, but I refused to allow them to gain any advantage.
I pinned Larsson, but the kid was a wily fox and shoved me off, taking the puck and trying to pass.
“The fuck you will,” I spat and took it off his blade. Open ice beckoned me, and I had a breakaway to an empty goal. The crowd was hysterical with joy, and I sent the puck into the net. Not the most exciting goal of my career, but I’d sure as hell take it.
With less than a minute remaining, there was no way the Nordics could catch us. We’d won, and I was mobbed by the team as the fans cheered. I swore I could feel the arena rocking and rolling beneath my skates.
“We did it. We did it. We’re going to the finals.” Even Coach was smiling as we shook hands with the opposing team. Almost all were good sports and congratulated us on a hard-fought win, but when it came time for Larsson to shake my hand, he spit on the ice at my feet.
“I don’t shake hands with cocksuckers.”
Stunned by his words and action, I merely nodded. “No problem.” I couldn’t hold back a smirk. “But this cocksucker is going to the Stanley Cup Finals. Have fun watching my ass on television.”
Finished with the pleasantries, I spun around and skated to where Adrian and Neil were seated. They each wore my jersey, and their faces were bright with joy. I raised my stick to them and shouted, “We did it!”
I didn’t think he could hear me over the din, but Adrian raised his fist and mouthed to me, I love you.
And thrilled as I was to win the conference and as much as I wanted to raise that Cup, knowing I had Adrian in my corner and by my side meant win or lose, I could handle whatever came my way.